Into His Hearts
by only-the-sassiest
Summary: Post TNOTD, the Maitlands have a new nanny, and Clara takes up full-time travel with the Doctor. Fluff, old insecurities resurfacing and shocking events ensue. Starts with sweet memories, ends with the bitter present. Tick tock goes the clock, and all the years they fly. Tick tock and all too soon, you and I must die. Special chapters as requested; they're from Ch 11 forward.
1. For Now, At Least

The Doctor sighed, curling a strand of Clara's hair around his index finger. She smiled brightly at him (that smile!). "Where to today, Clara?" he asked, but he wasn't quite sure he wanted to leave the sofa in the main TARDIS living room. She beamed again at the familliar question, a special kind of soft light twinkling away in the depths of her eyes (just like the stars he'd shown her). She licked her lips quickly, declaring her dormant reply in that half-second's worth of _power_. Clara-_power,_ he mused to himself.

"The Maitland's. No adventures, no alien-slaying, no _accidental landings_," she said pointedly. He chuckled, released her graceful chocolate-brown curl (_only the finest of chocolate,_ he thinks to himself) and waltzed his way to the console, in that special drunken-giraffe gait. "Of _course_, my dear Clara," he said in a posh tone. She giggled. (The littlest of things still made her blush like a teenage girl, when asked to dance).

"Angie? Artie?" she called absent-mindedly. She was only about three steps from the rich blue doors of the TARDIS when she was nearly bowled over by a running hug from Artie. "Whoa there, Arts, missing the nanny are we?" she said to him gleefully. He grinned up at her as she ruffled his childish brown curls, and he ran to retrieve his sister (who had apparently not heard them arrive, due to her listening to _that music_ again). She had been frightfully angsty in that special I'm-an-adolescent-and-I-hate-everything way. _Now now, Clara, let's be fair – like you were any better in _your_ teen years_, she reminded herself, and smiled. Clara's pretty face had been somewhat used to getting anything and everything she wanted, and it was, expectedly, difficult to cope with annoying things when she was younger. But then her mother died, soon followed by Mrs Maitland.

Angie slowly made it down the few stairs on the porch, probably pausing her music and finishing that last text to her best friend Nina. "Hi Clara, it's been a while," she mumbled, and makes to hurry back into her room when she spotted the Doctor. "Hey," she quipped, "you brought your boyfriend with you." She hurried back inside and bounded up the stairs before Clara could viciously deny it, and Artie ran up after her, not wanting to endure her nanny-lecture. Clara considered yelling after her, but decided against it. She wouldn't want the Doctor thinking she was the cranky type (but since _when_ did she care what 'type' the Doctor thought she was? Now, she decided). They both headed inside, and the Doctor smiled briefly at her. "You didn't deny it this time..." he said softly, and led her by hand into the Maitland house.


	2. Dead Flowers Tend To Bring More Death

A/N: This story will begin with all the fluffy events leading up to the craziness in the summary. Starts off relatively simple and cute but doesn't finish up that way, I promise. These are Clara's memories, brackets being her or the Doctor's explanations on things. Please leave a comment/review! :)

Clara woke with a shock, her eyes assaulted by the morning light. She gathered in the blue walls – back in the TARDIS? But they'd gone to... _Oh_, she realised. _The Doctor must have skipped a day so we could be together again._ She smiled.

During one of the Doctor's 'fuzzy moments', a.k.a his failure to accurately steer the TARDIS (although she knew now, that wasn't all his fault), they'd miscalculated the time again, and Clara thought she'd been away for three days while the Maitlands went to visit the grandparents; in Earth time, three months. By the time they got back, Mr. Maitland assumed she'd simply run off with 'that Doctor-y boyfriend of hers' and hired his recent wife's niece – but Artie would still call her his nanny to this day.

It was nice for Clara to just visit and bound off with the Doctor as she chose, now that he was paying her (_somehow_, but it kept her bills paid so she didn't complain) to travel with him. Not that she needed material incentive.

She stumbled to the TARDIS bathroom groggily, still rubbing away the sleep in her eyes. Clara showered, got dressed and made her way to the console room where she found the Doctor asleep on a vintage (or at least it _looked_ vintage...?) chair. He was sound asleep. "I thought you didn't sleep, Doctor," she murmured quietly, and kissed his forehead. He jolted awake and snatched her wrists with a snarl. He saw the startled and very much afraid look in her eyes, and relaxed immediately. "Sorry, I'm so sorry Clara, I thought you – Well I..." He gave up trying to explain, and exhaled audibly, running his hands through his hair. Clara isn't quite sure what happened, but he kissed her cheek in lieu of good morning and was off to start the day.

The Doctor threw open the doors of the TARDIS like he was revealing a present, and said in his tour guide voice "Welcome, my dear, to the East Malaysian jungles. I'm not exactly sure which jungle, but that is beside the point. Teeming with birds, fish in that stream over there – a little to your left – that's it, there – and insects. But don't worry, the old girl was kind enough to supply us with insect repellent." Clara raised an eyebrow at him, and laughed. "Doctor, that's spray tan," she said, and watched his confident face twitch with confusion. "Eh?" he said, scratching his head in that caught-off-guard way of his that she loved so much. "Well I never..." he muttered softly, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "She's out to get me. Why, oh why would your dear TARDIS sabotage our trip in such a _pivotal _way?" she exclaimed sarcastically. "Come on, I can take a mosquito bite or two." They stepped onto the soft dirt of the jungle, bodies dappled in the soft afternoon light.

Clara didn't question their destinations anymore – she knew that the TARDIS would always take them where they needed to be. This small establishment of understanding cut out the need for a lot of their conversations, and they found that they were walking in silence.

"So what was up with you this morning?" she asked tentatively, looking at him sideways through her hair. He's silent. "Aw, is Mr. Grumpy Pants feeling shy today?" she teased, hoping it would stir a reaction, and it did. "Oi!" he said, swirling around to stand in front of her. "I was not being grumpy!"

"Then what were you being?" she asked, hands on hips in mock condescension (a nanny habit of hers).

He licked his lips and replied "Clara, I – When one is a Time Lord, one sees and does many things. Not all of them involve incredibly pretty young women with sparkling eyes and a red dress." She flinched at his suggestion. "What do you mean?" she asked in a tiny voice. The Doctor sighed, plucked a blue flower from an overhanging tree and presented her with it. "See this flower?" he asked. "Imagine this flower is me. I steal a TARDIS as a young boy on Gallifrey, and go traipsing off gaily to save the universe and its planets." He brandishes the little flower about, somewhat comically, and she smiled. "It's fun, at first – saving planets, I mean," he continues in a quiet tone. The flower halts in mid-trajectory. "And then... more time passes. People live, people die. All my companions die, and this is what it does to a Time Lord."

He stomped mercilessly on the flower, and she flinched with every landing of his boot. (_But w__hat a fashionable Doctor he was_, she thought approvingly).

"And I am still here – living, but not dying. And you-" he trailed off, cupping her face in his weathered hands. "You will die too, sometime. Again. But I don't want you to, Clara," he continued, brushing away the hair that had fallen into her eyes. She sighed. "I'll... I'll promise not to die then," she replied softly, and smiled at the raggedy man. There was a funny look in his eyes; not a bad one, just one the Impossible Girl hadn't seen before. Like she was the first star of the night time. He broke eye contact and kept walking.

Cries came out from all around them, and the Doctor had whipped his sonic out within a second. The locals had arrived, and they didn't look too pleased at the dead flower behind them.

She whimpered and he wrapped his arms around her protectively, directing the sonic at any of the villagers who came too close. "That flower, Clara..." he began awkwardly, hiding a little behind her hair, "_might_ have been this village's sacred symbol." She whipped around and spotted the trampled but still sizeable flower in the dirt behind them. When she spun around again, the villager in front of them grinned, and everything went black.


	3. All In Good Humour

Chapter 3

The Doctor and Clara found themselves being taken by the TARDIS to tribal East Malaysia, to sort things out. The Doctor accidentally offended the natives who had been watching them, and got them both into trouble. Reference to Ten and Rose and more fluffiness in this chapter! Enjoy my dears :) One shot coming soon.

The Doctor kicked viciously at the villagers surrounding him – something he would never do – but they had taken _his_ Clara, and he refused to be taken as well. He was going to save his Impossible Girl. _Because I always do_, he thought to himself. They got the message, but hauled him off as well in the same direction they'd taken Clara with a bag over her head. From the way she fell limp, the Doctor gathered it had been soaked in something. A chill ran down his spine. _His_ Clara had been taken.

They found themselves in a dark dungeon of sorts. It was definitely old – cobwebs thickly spread across corners, unnameable bugs scuttling across the floor. The villagers discussed something for a while; the TARDIS translated to him, and they were arguing over where to put them and what to do with them. He smiled. _Stubborn people, Malaysians_, he thought to himself with a nostalgic smile. _Lovely, hospitable, and clever, but stubborn_.

The men left a bowl of not-too-bad-looking soup with not-too-bad-looking bread beside it on a wooden plate of sorts, although it was more of a slab, and vacated the room. The second the door shut he ripped the bag almost violently off Clara's head and cradled her in his arms affectionately. _You dear little thing. I got us into trouble again. But I _will_ get us out of this_, he promised her mentally.

_I was born to save the Doctor. He's helping someone defeat an Absorbalof, but he looks different again. I leave him to it, no saving needs to be done today. He'll be okay, as long as the blonde girl stays with him. _

_But she won't. None of them do._

The Doctor started when Clara awoke with a gasp. She settled into his arms (she's in his arms!), turned around to smile at him and said, "You're aware that you're holding me, I suppose?" She cocked an eyebrow, and he grinned at her. "You're awake!" he said cheerfully.

A splitting pain in Clara's head makes her wince. The Doctor moved Clara to a lying down position with her head in his lap, and ran his fingers through her hair soothingly. Her breath slowed, and after a few minutes her eyes opened. "I had another moment, Doctor," she told him, and placed a hand on his cheek, where stubble had started to peek from his soft skin. He nodded. "What did you remember?" he asked gently. "It was just a passing memory," she told him, quelling his concern with a single reassuring look. "Just a nice memory of you ridding some poor man of a terribly overweight creature that absorbed his food! A... An absorb-thingy. Absorbaling? Absorb... alof? Is that right Doctor?"

He nodded again. He remembered that day; the Doctor was never one to forget adventures. "What do we do now?" she asked softly. He grinned.

"I have a plan."

"And what's that? You try to sneak us out of here and get us killed and spiked on a stick instead?"

"Well it was, but without the getting killed part."

She was thoughtful for a moment. "That door's not locked, I don't think – which means they don't consider us prisoners here – which means they like us!" he exclaimed, and she gave him a questioning look. The Doctor grunted, and continued, "Well they at least don't hate us. It could be worse, they could be cannibals, a religious cult with sacrificial tendencies, or-"

"Doctor? Not helping."

"Ah."

He clasped his hands together and stuck his index finger up to indicate and idea. After whipping out the sonic, he waved it at the door, which popped open quietly. They hurried through, but Clara stopped a little way down the corridor, and beckoned to him to listen. "They'll know... I mean we're dressed differently and we're... too pale, they'll catch us," she whispered in his ear. He nodded, and whipped out the bottle of spray tan the TARDIS gave them with his famous wobbly grin.

"Told you. The TARDIS never gives us things without the need for them."

"What_ever_, Chin Boy."

They locked themselves in a nearby food storage room which was surprisingly clean (_Malaysians are a very hygienic people, _the Doctor thought to himself), and within half an hour of idle talk of what life was like on Gallifrey, the spray tan had set. Clara looked gorgeously bronzed, and fiercely attractive, having done self-tan many times before during her teen years and for weddings. The same couldn't be said for the Doctor, who hadn't encountered spray tan before. ("Not on Earth, anyway," he'd argued). The tweed-sporting man was unevenly coated in dark patches and white spots, a dark spot being particularly noticeable on his forehead. Clara burst out laughing and stifled it with the back of her hand. "What?!" he asked in a tone close to alarm. She giggled again, and patted his head patronisingly. "You look like an Oompa-Loompa that's been attacked with flour bombs." He frowned in mock insult, and she went on the tips of her toes to kiss the dark patch in his furrowed forehead. In a low tone, he said "I would make a fine Oompa-Loompa, actually. Although I'm not short enough for the job. You are, though." He winked at her, and she swatted his shoulder playfully. She smiled at him, a brave-hearted smile (_brave heart, Clara_, she remembered him telling her) and said "We best be off then."

They left the storage room as quietly as possible, and crept like timid creatures through the maze of hallways, stopping at every junction and the Doctor sonic-ing the way. After a long period of anxious silence, shallow breathing and false alarms, they entered the daylight of the jungle, and Clara clung to the Doctor's arm with a grip of iron. The natives were waiting for them it seemed.

A good number of them were eating, some sharpening knives, others taking the occasional swig of their drink. The group was all male; every member wore a bare loincloth and a necklace of what Clara hated to think were real teeth. The man who had taken Clara spoke first, the TARDIS translating into their heads. "You trampled our most precious flower. This, under ordinary law, would be completely unacceptable – however you are from a nearby land, as there is no other way of simply stumbling across the border. You were unarmed and had no violent intentions at first, at least, the girl didn't," he said, and chuckled a little with the locals nearby, "and we have decided to let you go. But first – do you have a skin disease, man? Has the unfamiliar weather triggered a bad spirit within you? And my goodness, the girl has obtained a tan already." He was in obvious good humour, and Clara loosed her grip and looked at the Doctor with expectation. He bowed, briefly introduced her and himself and apologised. The TARDIS materialised, much to the amusement of the men, who began to clap hysterically and said things along the lines of "Now hang on just a minute," "Sorcery! Take him!" and "I haven't drunk that much..." Clara laughed as the Doctor threw open the big blue doors and led Clara inside by hand.

She shook her head in disbelief. "Well, the old _cow_ isn't so bad after all," the Soufflé Girl admitted, patting the back of the door. "They thought we were neighbours! Perfect shade for me too. I might keep it actually," she added. He raised an eyebrow, and smiled inwardly. "I wouldn't mind a bit if you painted your skin TARDIS blue, my girl," the Doctor muttered to himself. "You would be just as beautiful."

"What's beautiful, Doctor? Sorry, didn't quite catch that. You talk to yourself an awful lot."

"Nothing, dear. It's just a lovely flower to have as an emblem."

"Oh, okay. It was too. I remember when I asked the Cyber Planner version of you if you thought I was beautiful..."

_And I do_, he thought. _You are the _most_ beautiful girl I have encountered in all my travels, the most impossible, and the most perfect. And I lo-_

His thoughts were interrupted by an abrupt, passionate kiss from Clara. His hands snaked up her neck and through her hair instinctively, and she clung to him affectionately. Time slowed down for the Doctor and the Impossible Girl.

She broke contact first. "Sorry – I – there was just this peculiar look in your eyes, and... Hey, you didn't flail and stuff. _Finally_ getting your balance I see? Or maybe you were expecting it, I mean we are in your snogbox of a time travel machine," she teased.

He was about to protest, but smiled to himself again. She gave him a strange look at the lack of argument.

_Just something I have always wanted to do._


	4. Give Me Everything

Chapter 4

_A/N Thankyou SO MUCH everybody for all the reads! Nearly __**600 views**__! I cannot handle this ughhh! Yeah so as you can tell, I am using a poetic approach in that I would like to use some lovely adjectives and in that the brackets represent a thought or something hidden. Also I'm killing the joyous fluff of the last chapter in order to develop the storyline, love you too. ;) Hearteu from Yura-ssi 3_

Things were quite different on the TARDIS after the kiss. The Doctor had more things to fix (she didn't approve of Clara's affections) and when he tried to hug her good morning, a segment of the console sparked in retaliation.

Across the next few days, there was nowhere to go, and the TARDIS seemed determined to stay put, hovering around the Milky Way. Clara saw less and less of the Doctor – he had been quite moody, throwing tools across the room and picking them up, embarrassed and almost confused at his own outbursts. He'd even yelled at her for walking too slowly, and tried to ask her why she wasn't making lunch yet. (_The nerve! _she thought) Clara was furious after that ordeal, and refused to speak to him for hours. He came in later to apologise; he was just upset about his previous companions – but mostly River. She just nodded, smiled, and returned to her book.

"Are we friends, Clara?"

"Always."

Clara brought up River six times the next day, all questions met with "She was an extraordinary woman, but that is a story for another day, Clara." She slumped and groaned. _Why is he being such a... Dalek? A bloody mood-killer! _she thought angrily. The Doctor seemed to get angry at anything now: when his tea was lukewarm and therefore useless, when his sonic wouldn't work first go, when Clara wasn't in the mood to kiss him. The more he got angry at everything, the more she got frustrated with him. They didn't go anywhere for a _week_, because neither of them were in the mood. Clara kept to her bedroom, the Doctor scanned and checked and double-checked and triple-checked and fixed things that weren't broken. Eventually the TARDIS had had enough and merged their bedrooms, cutting off any exits and effectively shutting them inside. She looked up from her book in shock to see him watching her with a sorrowful look in his eyes that could melt a Sontaran's heart. He sat down on the edge of her bed, and licked his lips, unsure of what to say. She haughtily returned to her book, and he sighed. "Clara... I have nothing to say but to apologise. I don't understand what's happening to me... I want you so badly and I don't know why. Everything is frustrating and nothing works and I _hate it_, and I can't do _anything_ without you," he said, looking her straight in the eye, a hand resting on her shin under the covers. A shiver crawled down her spine at his touch, and she smiled at him flatly. There was no feeling in it. "Doctor, I think you know how I feel right now. I just need you to be _you_, and everything will get better. You'll stop being moody and feel better pretty soon, right?" she asked him tentatively, looking anywhere but his face. "Right," he replied softly.

The Doctor's POV

_And just like that – she kissed me. She kissed me and Earth stopped mid-turn. Stars fell out of the sky in the universe of my mind and they lit up in the deep brown depths of her eyes, burning there with a flame of intensity. She peeled her lips from mine, and I am certain that there is nothing and no one quite so perfect as the woman before my eyes. She grinned, and I stood there, holding my face with both hands in a concoction of elation, confusion and disbelief – but mostly hoping it was not a dream. _

_After I showered, I was halfway dressing when I spotted a silver seed on my forearm. I rubbed my eyes, thinking it was some sort of trick of the light, but it didn't move or disappear, and blue light ran through a vein. I looked closer, and upon further inspection, there were hundreds of tiny lights running through hundreds of veins varying in size. I dropped to my knees without meaning to, and then... black._

_I woke up in my bed _(Thankyou my darling TARDIS)._ Silver tendrils had run all the way up my forearm now. I shouted and jumped to my feet, and I heard distant crying. Clara... Clara my beautiful... Something sparked in my head. _

_I had things to fix, why was she crying, stupid girl. We had things to do. She's an adult, for Pete's sake. Disgusting. Bloody left landing lever doesn't work, and the stupid railing's scratched again. Probably Clara's stupid ring. Who keeps those things anyway?_

_Why is she so late to lunch?_

_Why is she all holed up in her room? Is she that loathe to spending time with me? I showed her the stars, is that all there is? Was that all she wanted?_

_And yet, my hearts skip a beat when I see her so much as turn the page. Why won't she speak to me? What did I do wrong? I just want her to kiss away this insanity. This confusion, this eruption of feelings. I've never experienced this kind of emotion before, well once, but that was when the Cyber Planner was still in my head. It's definitely not him, because I haven't done anything I _really _regret yet._

_Until I caught Clara by the waist from behind as she was walking to the TARDIS library. I thought I'd find her in that hallway, and smiled into her hair. "My Clara," I'd said, and she'd tugged free of my arms. I'd grabbed her by the wrist anyway, because I wanted her. I wanted her, I wanted her, I wanted her, I wanted her, I WANTED HER. I need her, but she doesn't need _me_. Why do I always assume the humans will want to stay with me forever? _

(Because you're the Doctor, and you are an _idiot_).


	5. Don't Think It, Clara

Chapter 5

_**A/N: Thankyou so much for the all-positive reviews you gave, I love you all of you! Feel free to request one-shots, give stimulus, etc. :) Back to the present in this chapter with lots of unexpected twists and turns and empty pre-happenings that I don't have the writing courage to fulfil, if you want more fluffiness, make sure to give me a shout. And for those who were wondering about the switch in tense at the end of the last chapter, present tense still applies, because to this day the Doctor needs her. :S POV's are present tense also, to make it like the character is having a chat with you and hashing it all out. Chapters 6 & 7 are going to be written in their perspectives, respectively the Doctor for 6 and Clara for 7. Introducing a 'thoughts' segment in this chapter, enjoy!**_

He didn't move from his spot at the foot of her bed. The silver wiring that entangled his left arm (_past the bicep now!_) sparked under his jacket sleeve. The Doctor jolted upright, and Clara's eyes flashed in alarm. "Doctor?" she asked concernedly. "Nothing," he murmured unconvincingly. "Just... static from my jacket, that's all, dear." Then his mind went _click_.

The Doctor leapt to the space beside Clara, and before she could ask, he took the book from her hands to place it on the bedside table, and swept her hair behind her ear reverently. She backed up, hands either side of her body supporting her weight. "Doctor, what are you playing at?" she teased lightly as he curled an arm around her waist and pulled her towards him in one motion. He nipped once absent-mindedly at her neck, and pulled away suddenly. Before she could say "soufflé" he had her hands tied together in front of her and was hauling her by the hair through the door to the console room.

"What do you remember?" he snarled at her. Her eyes widened in fear and shock.

"I don't know what you're-"

"_TELL ME!_ Which planet sent you here?"

"_What?_ Doctor, I really-"

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"What am I even-"

"Why are you so..." His mind clicked again, and his grip settled. "Doctor?" she asked in a tiny voice. "Are you alright?"

"Oh my stars... Clara why are you all tied up? Let me sonic that for you," he said gently, sonic-ing her bonds and she shook them free, rubbing her wrists. Clara looked very much confused at this sudden change of behaviour. "Why are you looking so frightfully alarmed?" he asked her with real concern. "Doctor, what's been going on with you?" she asked, eyes exploring his in the hopes that they might answer her. "What'cha talking about, Clara? I've always been me, you've known who I am since the beginning! Well a different version of me, with a different body and different mannerisms and actually, not really me. But in any case, I am _here_ and you are beautiful and..." He paused as his stomach growled angrily, demanding to be fed. "Say, darling, I'm rather peckish. Could you go grab a tin of Jammy Dodgers from the cupboard-" he began, but Clara grabbed him by both shoulders and looked fiercely into his eyes. "_Doctor_," she said firmly, "why have you been so strange these past few days? Actually, always, but not _always_ always, but you've always had these dark periods of time where you get upset at everything and you all of a sudden don't seem like yourself. But then, _click_! You're you again and no one knows what happened. You have some explaining to do." She stared at him pointedly, arms crossed defensively across her chest. The Doctor took mental note of this display of body language and sighed, knowing that she associated sighing with relaxation, and relax she did. Not for long, however, as the Doctor reluctantly took off his jacket to reveal wires poking out from beneath his sleeve. Clara didn't spot them until he unbuttoned the cuff and rolled it all the way up, and she gasped in horror, her hand covering her mouth. "What _is_ that?" she asked, her voice up in pitch by an octave. "It's my curse, Clara. When I stole the TARDIS, she knew straightaway and didn't exactly appreciate it. We're much closer now, obviously, but back then we weren't," he told her, chuckling darkly. "She implanted something inside of me that used my humanoid structure against me. Specifically, emotions. When I spend a prolonged period of time feeling something strongly, it activates and strongly amplifies my dominant thoughts and/or feelings – often leaving me a grumpy and horrible Doctor. It amplifies every thought though, if I have even a slight change in emotion I feel it straightaway. I fight it, of course, I always have. But I'll warn you now Clara – it's very difficult to get rid of, and I have no idea when or where it'll take over. You'll be able to distinguish when it does. And it's quite nasty, Time Lord bio weaponry. I just hope you're not among my strongest thoughts when it takes me," he added.

_But of course you will. You always are, my Clara. Mine._

Clara's Thoughts

_I remember now. The flash of light and the shouting and the Doctor gripping his forearm like it might separate from him suddenly and smack him in the face. TARDISes are delightful machines, but bitter if you misuse them. And he employed the highest kind of misuse: he stole it. He stole what wasn't given to him, because they didn't think he deserved one. So he got himself one anyway, made himself an honorary Time Lord and called himself the Doctor. _

_I remember the last time the Silver Seed took over him. It activated shortly after the Cyber Planner left his head, I guess he must have felt really uncomfortable. But the difference is that I _liked _the way it changed him. He became way more cute and cuddly and more than a little sad, but you see, I can live with that. I can love that. But this time? A Doctor who yells at me and throws tools across the room? A Doctor who can't look at me without his nose crinkling in disapproval? I'm not so sure. It's not another side of him – it is not him at all. If these are his dominant thoughts, why does he hate me so? Have I changed? Or do I _need_ to?_

_Of _course_ it's me. Silly girl, falling for the 'you're the Impossible Girl, oh so special' jibber-jabber. No wonder he hates you! He probably just hid it better before. The Seed is doing you good, showing you what he _really_ thinks about you. And you thought _he _had the problems? Pfft, stop flattering yourself Clara. You've always been a failu-_

_Don't. Don't think it, Clara. You know what happens when you let yourself think about that. You're twenty-four years old now, come on! You can handle yourself! Yes, happy thoughts, no need to call Dr. Schuter anymore. You don't need a psychologist, you haven't for six years. You can do this- _no you can't, stup- _don't think it Clara!_

_But it's too late, and the second the harsh label escaped the darkest corner of my mind it lit a fire there to illuminate the other thoughts in hiding; the most misshapen, hideous creatures of my mind feeding greedily on this moment of weakness. And yet the one who can pull me out is the one pushing me towards them. Preparing me for consumption by them. Those thoughts were the death of me in a previous life, or rather I was. There's a certain amount of perfection required for being an Impossible Girl, and it always seems impossibly difficult for me to meet this basic standard. I just want perfection. Is _that_ too much to ask?_


	6. Maybe It Was

Chapter 6

_**A/N: 1000+ READS I CANNOT! You guys are the best ever! DOCTOR CHAPTER! Also prepare your feels again, sorry to that guy who PM'ed me, but it's good to see her thoughts gave you the desired amount of feeling. Will write one-shots, upon request; give me reviews and follow/fav if you want more! Goes a bit back-and-forth between perspectives, this chapter. Thoughts are present tense because they are, indeed, thoughts, which were being thought in that time of the event. General storyline and POV's are past tense, they're memories. This is predominantly a thoughts chapter, and we go deeper into the true nature of Eleven and Clara. Trigger warning: self-harm, self-hate.**_

"_I'll hold you tight, straight through to daylight_

_I'm right here, when are you gonna realise_

_That I'm your cure?_

_Heartbreak Girl."_

-Heartbreak Girl, 5 Seconds of Summer

The Doctor's Thoughts

_It will go away soon. It has to. I can't look after Clara like this, and I know she would kill me for suggesting she needs looking after, but she does. She's so human: fragile, _beautiful_ and emotional. But she's not quite like other humans. My Clara is as much perfect as she is impossible; impossibly perfect. These past few days, she has been silent, and avoiding me like the plague. Well actually, there are plenty of plagues, that expression is flawed... Anyway, I need to be the one to love her, to buy her flowers, to take the book from her hands and tuck her in when she's fallen asleep reading again. I need to be the husband-y figure. With the TARDIS refusing to move, I feel dreadfully human. No skipping time here and there, no killer aliens, no delicious fruit. No dying, and no saving. Just making the most of the present, which I find Earth's inhabitants to be quite adept at. _

_Not that I particularly dislike it; Clara, among the rest of those who have travelled with me, believe that I can't stand being idle, but truthfully, albeit only occasionally, I enjoy doing the human things. I love everything she does, for herself, for others, for me. I loved Rose, and I loved River, but those loves felt fleeting. With Rose, it was far too temporary, although passionate, with River, unrealistic. But Clara has always been there, turning all my downfalls into victories, saving me every time I needed saving, even if it cost her a life. Lately, I feel like I've done something wrong. Aside from being taken over by myself, of course, except she can't look me in the eye and say that she's alright. I don't know if it's my fault, if she's taking this too hard, but I know better than to ask. She's always had... issues. Issues with being perfect. But if I could just tell her! Show her, somehow, how magnificent and beautiful and _perfect_ she already is! That she doesn't have to try so hard. I want her to see that she can trust me to care for her, even after everyone else is gone. _

The Doctor's POV

I found her in the kitchen again. She was staring at the corner, the one with the knives and the rusty toaster from the 90's. I hoped she only wanted to cut up some fruit, but I knew her too well for that. I knew what she has done before, and it scared me that someone so constructive and positive could be so destructive and negative. I curled my arms around her waist and spun her around a good three times, hoping to cheer her up, but she smiled briefly, removed my hands, and ran off to the TARDIS library. Again. I sighed, and leaned on the counter she had just been standing at. _What am I not doing?_ I thought, frustration creasing my forehead, and I punched the tabletop without meaning to. _Click_.

Clara's POV

I burst into the library, slammed the door behind myself, and started bawling immediately. _How long can I take his pretending?_ I asked myself. _How long can he act like he loves me, and kiss me, and carry me when I'm tired, when all I am is the burden he keeps around so he doesn't get too lonely? How am I still here, on this ship? The TARDIS hates me, the Doctor hates me – why am I still here, trudging through every day with no reprise or promise of adventure – or any kind of distraction. Left alone with my mind. Dr. Schuter always said I should never be alone with my mind, _I reminded myself, taking out the bread knife I'd taken from the kitchen. I dragged it across my forearm in that familiar pattern, line after line after line, and exhaled as it clattered to the floor. _Better_, I thought. But then I felt the bookshelves swirl around me, and I sank to my knees, to hit the floor.

The Doctor's Thoughts

_She __**keeps doing it**__. Time and time again, no matter what life she's in, no matter who she is, she has that constant of mutilating herself. It started with scratching her face, and I should've seen it for what is was, I should've tried to stop her... But we don't speak about it anymore. I keep telling myself that she'll speak if she wants to, but of course she won't. She's too fiercely independent for that. But this isn't Clara. The cutting, the crying... It doesn't define her. Her beauty and her intelligence and her sheer perfection does. _

_I hope she's feeling alright by now._

General Storytelling Perspective (GSP)

The Doctor made his way to the library to check up on Clara, expecting her to be all curled up in the corner, crying, with a book. But she was passed out on the floor in front of the door, left forearm covered in thin red lines of blood, and he released an anguished cry. The Doctor cradled her in his arms, alternating between stroking her hair, kissing her lips, cheeks, and forehead, and saying "My Clara" into her ear.

She woke in the Doctor's arms, and immediately hoped he hadn't seen anything. Clara snatched her left arm from his grasp and smiled at him as a means of distraction. "We're making a habit of this, you know. Me waking up in your arms," she said with a wink, but her voice had the slightest tremor to it. His face remained deadpan, and her false smile faded. "Doctor?" she said quietly, and a tear rolled down his face. "No... Doctor..." she cooed, brushing the wet from his eyes.

"What's wrong?" _And of course she only worries for me, _the Doctor thought.

"Clara-"

"Yes?"

"Why – how – do you hate yourself so much? Can't you see it my dear? Can't you see how beautiful and _perfect_ you already are?" His voice had reached that low, gravelly tone when he was being old as he was, and it stirred Clara to tears too. "Do you really think so?" she asked, voice trembling with pent-up emotion. "Is it not just the Seed?" He smiled at her through his tears, stroked her hair, and replied "It never is. Not when it comes to you. I'd never let it, Clara. I'd never let it, because I, uh, I lo... I..." He stuttered endlessly, and she laughed at him.

"_IloveyouClaraOswaldokayyepI'mdonenow." _

He took her left arm, and left a trail of kisses where the skin had angry red scars on it, and she noticed a shimmery golden glow. The pain started to ebb away, and more gold light swirled around the point where his lips met her arm, and while at first she thought she was just romanticising, she heard him murmuring Gallifreyan softly into her even softer forearm. "Don't... You need it more, Doctor..." she started, but the scars were already gone.

"Don't hurt yourself like that ever again. _Ever. Do you hear me Clara_?"

"I – of course, Doctor. And Doctor?"

"Yes, dear?"

_Smack. _"Oww!" he complained, rubbing his face where she'd hit it. "Never use your regeneration energy on me again," she told him sternly, but he was too busy recovering to notice. "You know, Clara," he said softly, "every single time the Silver Seed has activated, it's been because of you, but not in the way you think. Instead, from fear of losing _you_, concern for _you_, or... _loving you_. It's just too much for the old body to handle." He chuckled. "So all these times..." she said, trailing off into the recesses of her mind.

"Yes. Because I love you, Clara Oswald."

She looked at him doubtfully, and he nearly cried from her lack of self-esteem. "And because you are still so impossible!" he added. "It's not even about our timelines anymore. I just can't figure out how you intrigue me with everything you are, and everything you do, and oh my stars... I've been doing an awful lot of talking tonight, you must be talked-out."

She wiped the tears from under her eyes rather forcefully, and straightened his bowtie with finality. "I think the old girl's ready to go again," Clara told him of the TARDIS, and he sped through the library door to the console room. The Doctor flung levers extravagantly, stabbed a good number of buttons, and pulled back one last lever with strain.

The Doctor's POV

"_Is this actually what you do? Do you just hook your finger, and people just jump in your snogbox and fly away?" she'd asked me when we first met, before she'd been scattered into a million points of starlight, shining crimson among the rest that lay within my timeline. My Impossible Girl smiled at me, presumably happy to be travelling again. I strode over to her, took her beautiful face in my hands, and kissed her with everything I had, no holding back._

_I'd told her time after time that my time machine was not a snogbox; but then again, just maybe it was._


	7. His Last Reflection

Chapter 7

_**A/N: Hey guys, thanks for all your kind words, Clara chapter! It's been so intense huh? This time around, they start to figure things out. RELENTLESS FLUFF! Leave a review and feel free to request/give stimuli. **_

Clara's Thoughts

_He kissed me. Actually kissed me. That's all it took. One minute, falling apart, then he kissed me and I'm suddenly okay. Even if it wasn't all him, it felt like stars. Stars in the universe of my mind – it's like they fell out and lit up his eyes. A man told the Doctor once that the last thing a dead person sees stays reflected in their eyes forever; alongside those stars, I want to be in that reflection. _

_But it doesn't matter, even if he doesn't really like me at all. I get to travel all of space and time with him, and I've already seen so much. Except Manhattan, not _with_ him anyway, but I think it's better not to ask. I'm getting better though. I've gone six years without a single panic attack, I'll be fine again. As long as the Doctor lives._

_Brave heart, Clara, the anxiety will be over soon. Yes, that's right. Brave heart._

Clara's POV

"Okay, so I got a distress call somewhere in the mountains of Switzerland 1815, right during the war. Now let's see, I can't pinpoint _exactly_ where the call is coming from, but the closer we get, the more chance the TARDIS, sexy thing, can find them. Now if I just turn on the tracking system..."

I happily watched the Doctor going about business as usual. This – this was the man I loved. Even if it took him a mental invasion to love me back.

We landed with a rather harsh _thud_ into miles and miles and miles of white, unpolluted snow. I always wondered what so much pure landscape would look like; but I suppose an old Clara would've known. The Doctor flung open the doors, and led me by the hand into a massive gust of wind, and he had to pull the TARDIS doors shut. I shivered violently into the Doctor, and he wrapped his coat around me.

I'm still not sure if I imagined that spark.

GSP

The Doctor opened the TARDIS right back up and dragged them both inside. Clara's noise of protest was stifled by a sudden, hot kiss from the Doctor. It was a hungry, needy kiss, and a heavy feeling grew in her stomach. This was not her Doctor, but she tried to enjoy the feeling anyway. Before she knew it he had his hands all over her body and had her pressed up against the console. She broke the kiss, roughly shoving him away in distaste. He misinterpreted the shove as her being playful, and started to kiss her neck when she slapped him in the face. He growled, but his breath slowed, and he blinked rapidly in confusion. Clara felt tears welling up in her eyes, and she rushed to the library again. The Doctor reached in her direction as if he could pull her back, yelling "Clara!" after her, like she would come back if he just called her name enough.

He found her sobbing in a chair by the Gallifreyan History section, her hand over her mouth like she'd just told a big secret. The Doctor didn't understand at first, until he saw the title of the book she was holding open.

_The Life of The Doctor – A Biography_.

"No, no, no, no, no, Clara! You can't read that!" he exclaimed, hauling the book off her lap and embracing her, running his hand through her hair like it was his life source. She screamed into his jacket, and his hearts broke for every time a tear disappeared into his tweed. He whispered soft Gallifreyan blessings into her ear, but when he looked down, she was smiling at him. He cocked his head to one side like a thoroughly confused cocker spaniel, but grinned down at her. "And what made you so _incredibly _happy reading my life story? Knowing my future and holding it against me? Oh Clara, you are quite the power-wielding woman," he said to her in an amused tone. She laughed and spun joyously through the aisle. The Doctor was very confused, and expressed it with his lack of movement. In fact, he was rooted to the spot like a deer in headlights. "Oh, but if I could just tell you, Doctor! What happens..." she said, her happiness shining from the corners of her smile. "You can always tell me, Clara. I just can't interfere," he told her, planting a kiss on her forehead.

"It's – no, I can't..."

"Oh come on-"

"But... HAHA! We... we.. no. I mean, really-"

"Clara."

"I highly doubt it actually, for all I know that book could be a marvellous-"

"-_Clara _-"

"-work of fiction, I mean this _is _the TARDIS lib-"

"CLARA OSWIN OSWALD, TELL ME RIGHT NOW OR I WILL... suspend your reading privileges... that sounded better in my head..." The Doctor trailed off and fixed his gaze upon his shoes, a dark shade of red plum rushing to his cheeks. She giggled, and threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug. "Who's the nanny now, Chin Boy?" she teased, and he feigned mock offense, clapping a delicately posed hand to his mouth. "What_ever_, soufflé freak," he shot back, and stuck his tongue out at her, and they both can't help but laugh.

"Come on! You can't just bring something up and not talk about it."

"Well, you see, in the future, we-"

"Yes?"

"-well _someone's_ keen, anyway-"

"Go on, dear-"

"Oh shut up and let me finish, Doctor!"

"Yes ma'am."

She rolled her eyes, and continued, "Basically Doctor, you spent – oh, about a good half of the last segment talking about how you expected our half-Gallifreyan children to turn out different than they did." A strange look flashed across the Doctor's face. He cleared his throat with more awkwardness than there needed to be.

"So we... did the... you know... _the wild thing_-"

"Oh my _God_, Doctor, you are so bloody immature! I honestly-"

"Oi! I'll have you know that I am over a thousand years old and have seen my own gravestone. Give me some credit."

She shook her head knowingly and smiled at him through her hair. His hearts fluttered, but he would never tell her.

Clara's POV

And just like that – I fixed his bowtie, and the wires retracted from under his collar, all the way back down his toned arms (_those arms!_) until the next time.

So that, my friend, was the first time that knowing the future ever helped the Doctor live it out.

_**P.S A/N: **__**Chapter 8 coming on Friday, don't worry, this isn't the final chapter. ;)**_


	8. The Last Time Lord

Chapter 8

_**A/N: Oh my Time Lord this chapter was hard to write. Anyway, enjoy! After this, I will post a good deal more stories, AU's, etc. May take a while, school term is ending and it's tests galore. This is a character POV/thoughts chapter, and we've finally arrived at the point were Clara and the Doctor are living the present. The Seed has not treated him well, and past events are catching up with them. Prompts were to switch their mentalities towards themselves and to "let the Doctor feel." **_

_**Clara is 49 years old, and the Doctor still looks 25. Starts with present thoughts, flashes back to past events, ends with present events, where the Doctor is turning into a hot mess, and has picked up some dangerous thoughts and habits. Without knowing, they've become completely domestic and don't travel anymore. Final chapter guys, it's been real. Please drop a review so I know what you guys like and don't like, leave requests if you want to see more!**_

* * *

Clara's Thoughts

_Cook. Eat. Clean. Travel. Sleep. Repeat. And he just can't figure out why I don't speak to him anymore. Why I don't wear such fitted clothing anymore, why I spend all day in the TARDIS library. Why I complain about living out of suitcases. _

_The Impossible Girl ran away with her madman in a blue box to go on adventures, learn things, save people – and fall in love. She did all of them, and in return, she gave her lives to him. And he takes it for granted every day; _surprisingly_, married life is not the best life. _

_The kids have grown up and left now. Amy-Rose is married at 25 years old with her own vortex manipulator (the one I tried so hard to convince my Doctor out of getting her, but consented as it was her 21__st__ birthday; we haven't really seen her since) working as a journalist, Jack moved out with his third fiancée and his own vortex manipulator (I sigh endlessly over these two facts, we named our children well) at 23 and is residing in Perth, Western Australia in 2013, and Rory's living on his own in Rome. He told us that he wanted to be a centurion like his namesake when he grew up, so fittingly, the Doctor dropped him off in 400 BC, where he now lives as an equite of the legion also with his own vortex manipulator. He's Rory Williams' personal favourite and best fighter in his division._

_Sometimes the Doctor cries when Rory leaves us letters on 21__st__ century paper. My Doctor cries a lot now. He doesn't deserve the Seed. He might have, a long time ago, but after so much saving of lives and galaxies – I do not believe it to be justified anymore. The TARDIS says it is irreversible, and this only serves to harden my heart towards her. _

_Sometimes I cry when my Doctor calls me beautiful and holds my wrinkled, bony hand in his 25-year-old ones. _

_Sometimes we cry together when he wakes me up and I've got rope and a knife in my hand, the other hand full of last night's bad decisions and many, many tears._

_Sometimes the TARDIS cries, because she isn't a snogbox anymore._

_We all cry sometimes, because all the good things are in the same place as our younger selves. Gone._

The Doctor's POV

I wake up with my head on the console for the third time this week.

_Month. No, week. I don't know anymore. I used to care about those basic human-y things, and to be honest I thought after having kids and them leaving I would feel accomplished. That's what I thought, at first._

_I thought it would be fun._

* * *

_**-Flashback to Clara and the Doctor's first marriage anniversary in Earth years-**_

Clara's POV

The Doctor – well, _my_ Doctor (still getting used to that) said he had something to tell me. He looked pretty serious, so I'm hoping it's only about me not making my soufflé another tradition. _Pfft_. I'll have that recipe down pat by the age of 50. I swore it to my mum.

I stand at the sink in the joined bathroom to the right of the master suite, hands resting on the counter expectantly. Within a minute of silent contemplation, I feel his breath at my neck and suddenly he's spinning me around and around in the air gleefully. I can't keep the smile off my face.

I turn around to smile at him, and he plants a soft kiss on my cheek. "So what is it you wanted to tell me?" I ask him, soaking up every drop of his affections. He smiles. _Click_.

Oh _my_ stars. It's happened again. His eyes darken, and his mouth hangs open a little. My Doctor pulls me into a crushing kiss, and he pulls at the bottom of my shirt in complaint. _The Seed's making him do things he wouldn't have the moxie to otherwise_. I loosen his bowtie. "More something I wanted to _show_ you," my Doctor whispers lazily into my ear. He sweeps me off my feet and throws me down on our bed lustily.

The Doctor's Thoughts

_It's absolutely pitiful. I had to rely on that _thing_ to show my love for my own wife. She better know I meant everything we did. _

_I'm sick of this back-and-forth motion between the Seed and me. A thousand years I've coped, and yet it gets worse as I get older. All this time spent with humans, maybe I should just go back to moping in Victorian London. Yes, at least then I wasn't hurting people. Loving them. Taking them away from their lives under guise of adventures and saving galaxies, planets, and cities. But, truthfully, I'm just a lonely old man. Clara is the only woman I've ever met that has seen as much as I have, aside from Madame Vastra. My Clara, my Impossible Girl, my soufflé mini-master, she probably doesn't even know yet. I don't think she's figured out, despite her fierce wit, why my expression changed so dramatically after scanning her with the sonic. _

_My Clara... I need to take her away from this, this _mess_ of a normal Earth life. I know what I did, and although Gallifreyan births follow the same process as human births and with much less pain, there's no telling how her body will react to it. _

_I'll start praying again. From my experience, the God that the humans pray to, He seems to listen, at least. So I'll pray over her, and watch her and our daughter grow. Maybe that way I'll feel a little less... crappy. _

_She hasn't hurt herself since I first told her I loved her. Properly told her, instead of that spluttering, awkward creature I was two years ago. _I was clever_, I told her one day. _I married above me to improve my own status. Far above me._ She laughed at that. I would do anything for that laugh._

Clara's POV

He's scared. My Doctor, he's properly shaken up. Poor thing isn't ready yet for that kind of news. We've just gotten back from Filia, the planet of family, friendship, and new love, where the doctor there had declared me pregnant with a full Gallifreyan child. I was confused at first, and so was he. Human plus Gallifreyan usually only equals half-Gallifreyan. But apparently, as she, (my daughter!) was conceived on the TARDIS, that fact alone would make her half-Gallifreyan, and the other half coming directly from the Doctor. Under Earth tests, the Filian doctor explained, I would be declared unrelated to my child due to mutations of DNA. Good thing we weren't going back to Earth until after the births. My Doctor said he would forge the birth certificate.

Despite him having planned over _every single little detail_, I'm anxious. I've looked after children since I was 16, and I'm not sure how to look after this child. I mean, I've certainly thought about it before. A child. _Our_ child. I suppose I should've expected it.

* * *

_**-One Earth year later-**_

The Doctor seems to be on edge these days. Snappish, confused – it's not my Doctor. He claims to love children, but when it comes to Amy-Rose, I doubt him. The Doctor was a loving man, I remember it. He just needs to stop feeling sorry for himself. He needs to stop hiding all the sorry in the bottom of a Jack Daniel's.

I _never_ had him down as the drinking type, but neither did he, I guess. It's not making him any better and we both know it. He beats himself up for not being a good father, drinks it away, yells at me for a while, sleeps it off. Wakes up, cries about not being a good father, and the vicious cycle continues.

* * *

_**-Present-**_

"It's okay, I'm okay, we're all okay," he murmurs to himself repeatedly. "Doctor?" I call again, and I sit on his lap promptly. He wipes the tears away abruptly, and runs a hand over my hair, which is pulled back into a ponytail.

"That day," he begins, "the one where you randomly ran off to the library. You knew where the book was?" I nod. "I've spent a lot of time in that library, asking the TARDIS as much as she knew about you. So she gave me that book to read, and I finished it," I told him, straightening his wonky bowtie. "Funny thing is, the last page of every chapter seems to always read 'Spoilers.' Like it's not even done yet. Like, if we wanted to, we could go continue that life. We could finish it off properly."

He shakes his head, and I look down sadly.

"Even if we wanted to, the TARDIS wouldn't let us. She has too many sad feelings about what you've done for me."

_Click_.

"God_dammit_ Clara!" he growls in a very angry tone, and I leap away from him halfway across the room. My knees feel wobbly.

"Why are you doing this to me? To _us_?"

_Why am __**I - **__the bastard..._

"Me? _ME_?! Do you _know_ what I've done for you? Do you even know what it's like for _me_? And you have the nerve to..."

I make to storm out of the room, but his hand catches my wrist like an iron clamp, and I freeze. He's never done this before. Not this angry. I whip around and give him the angriest glare I can, and he slaps me across the face so hard I hit the wall. All I can do is curl into a ball, facing the corner, holding my breath. Waiting. After about a minute, he leaves with a look of disgust, slamming the door like thunder behind him, and I hear things smash further down the hall. The only piece of glass in the house the TARDIS made for us. The picture of me and my parents.

I start to cry silently in that corner.

The Doctor's Thoughts

_I can't – I don't know how... I've hurt her, I... My thoughts are _disintegrating_. Picture, why did I... __**My Clara**__. I've hurt her. I didn't mean to! (What are you doing, Doctor) __**My Clara**__, I want her to be safe, she can't be... with me... __**My Clara, my Impossible Girl**__. I love her, I love her, I love her, I love her, I love her, I love her, I love her, I love her, I love her, __**my Clara**__. I can't do this to her. I don't deserve her, or this TARDIS, this life. I don't deserve the empty title of Time Lord, or any of this... No TARDIS, it's okay. You'll all be rid of me soon. Now, where are the knives?_

Clara's POV

I've stopped crying for barely half a minute when I here a grunt in the kitchen. The Doctor. My Doctor. In the kitchen. In _pain_. I run through the house, zigzagging through the labyrinthine of corridors I've memorised over the years.

I find him with two knives pointing straight at his hearts. He spots me, and they clatter to the floor as I rush to embrace him. We're shaking like the leaves that fell the day my parents met.

"Doctor, _my_ Doctor..." I whisper to him lovingly. It's been a long time since I've spoken to him like that. He starts to sob into the place where my neck and right collarbone meet, and the tears soak into the fabric of my fitted scarlet dress. He frowns thoughtfully and looks me up and down for the first time in weeks. It's the dress I wore when I got stuck on board the TARDIS and the engine exploded, and I thought he was going to remind me of that, when he tells me, "You've lost an awful lot of weight, my dear. Too much for a human."

He picks the knives up off the kitchen tiles, feeling the weight of them in his hands. They look absurdly bright for the situation, crimson as they are. My favourite colour. I make to take them off him, but he doesn't give them to me. He looks me straight in the eye, cups my face in his calloused hands again, and kisses me gently. I'm conscious of the two knives that still lie by either side of my ears, and the cool sensation they leave. I feel a tingling sensation in my toes, which makes it way up my legs, through my spine, and settles in my chest. Memories and thoughts flood into my mind all at once, and I find myself smiling and crying and frowning and kissing and dying and being born. He's transferring his thoughts and memories into my head. Why is he doing that? I feel like there's no point in asking though, as he winks at me and smiles. I smile back, and it's a happy, lingering smile that I haven't been able to show him for years.

Until he plunges both knives into his hearts.


	9. To Feel Like I Was Okay - Part 1

_**A/N: You guys PM'ed the living crap out of me asking for some decent closure, so here it is. Epilogue, part 1. Also I HAVE A BETA READER NOW :D Got about 6 stories lined up already, so all I'm going to say is BRACE YO SELF (or rather your feels). More reviews pleaseu! I live off your words. c:**_

Clara's POV

I watched in what felt like slow motion as the Doctor hit the floor, blood just beginning to ooze from his hearts under that blue button-up shirt. I consider calling someone, anyone, but there's no point. When with the Doctor, everything is done for a reason. Except that this is the first time he's done anything like this. I feel like the girls in the movies and the fanfictions, watching their husband and father of their children die. They cry a lot, and beg for their loves to return. But I stand over him, eyes fixed on his wobbly little smile and glowing green eyes. Sure enough, there I was, etched into the reflection. I was the last thing he saw.

He exhales shakily, and his head falls to its final rest.

I wait and wait for the golden particles to fill the TARDIS. Nothing happens. That's when I start to cry. _My_ Doctor. He's not allowed to do this. Not to me, or anyone, not to _himself_! I bury my face in his favourite tweed jacket, and I inhale everything he is - _was _– ignoring how scratchy the fabric felt. I remember complaining to him about that.

"_How can you wear this around? It's so scratchy and horrible!"_

"_Well I'm sorry that you were cold and I am a gentleman."_

He'd winked at me.

I wailed into his shirt, not caring for the smell of his blood, not caring how it'd stained my hands and face. I cried and cried and _cried_ until my body chemicals kicked in and forced me to calm down. But why should I? The... the _bastard_. How could he... I felt tears welling up again, but I pushed them down. "TARDIS..." I started shakily, "t-take... take his body." _Zing_.

And like that, he was gone. No gold dust, no burst of light, no snappy comments about not being ginger. My Doctor, gone. I parked the TARDIS in front of the Maitland house in present day to feel like I was home. I flung open the doors as hard as I could to feel like I was strong. I rapped loudly on the familiar badly painted door to feel like I was confident. I fell into the arms of a grown-up Artie to feel like I was okay.


	10. To Feel Like I Was Okay - Part 2

_**A/N: Part 2 guys. This is it. The last half of the epilogue :S. I'm going to miss doing this. Onto other stories! Currently writing Chapter 2 of the 'What's In A Name?' and 2 others. **_

_**This chapter is mostly in General Storytelling Perspective. Clara tells the Maitlands, all her kids, and the Ponds that the Doctor is dead and won't regenerate. Prepare your feels again. (sorry, not sorry). :D**_

GSP

"Good Lord, Clara, are you quite alright? Come inside," Artie says in a much deeper voice than she remembered him having. Clara sat herself shakily at the table and takes in the familiar surroundings. Literally nothing had moved. Even the tablecloth was the same. She starts crying as soon as he turns on the kettle.

"Oh Clara, what is it? Is it the Doctor? How have you been? I heard you've got kids! I suppose they're quite grown up? How are you? Well, probably not so good, I mean you're crying and - I'll shut up now..." Artie gushes. _Typical Artie,_ she thinks nostalgically. _Forever spouting questions_.

She steels herself, and looks her old ward in the eye. "Artie, I'd love to catch up, but... there's simply no easy way to say it. The Doctor, _my _Doctor..." Clara begins as steadily as she could, "I found him in the kitchen, with two knives pointed right at his hearts." She chokes a little on the end of that sentence. "It's the Seed, it's always been the Seed, the one thing he loved most, the TARDIS, I don't know why she would... He wasn't doing well, I thought he was just getting old, we all are, I mean look at you! All beautiful and grown up and I... It'll be my turn soon."

Artie rubs the back of Clara's arms comfortingly, and lets her cry off the remnants of her waterproof eyeliner into his white leather jacket. _Waterproof, but not nearly grief-proof,_ she thinks to herself. She watches Artie's 'I'm-still-thinking' face until his eyes widen. He turns to her abruptly.

"Clara – you _don't_ mean to say he... Oh my God! He wouldn't... would he? Why – _ahhhh_...!"

Clara starts to wail openly, her cheek pressed against the familiar polished wooden table. Artie yanks the charger from his mobile and punches in Angie's number. Voicemail. Clara stops crying suddenly. "Clara?" he asks gingerly. She runs through the door and into the rain. "It's all a joke isn't it?" she screams into the brewing storm. _The Oncoming Storm_, she thinks drily. "This is _your_ idea of a joke, isn't it Doctor? Well it's _very_ funny, but I think it's time for you to come back. Come on then, dear! Your wife is waiting!" she continues, soaking up the heavy rain with outstretched arms. Artie could only watch her through his horrified tears. "Clara..." he breathes to himself, watching her laugh manically. "What has he done to you?"

_**- Three years after the death of the Doctor -**_

"Come along, dear, it's lunchtime," the nurse says, head peeking through the heavy shockproof, waterproof and bulletproof door to Clara's cell. Clara doesn't move from her spot under the bed. "We have to check for the Angels first, and if we do find them, don't you dare blink. Blink, and you're _dead_," she tells her nurse Lily solemnly. Lily smiles almost apologetically at her. "There's nothing there, Clara – it's lunchtime. You know Dr Martin doesn't approve of your missing meals."

Clara glares at the woman clad in white. "I don't give a furry rat's behind what he thinks. He's not _my_ Doctor," she says heatedly. "And I'm not in the slightest wanting that age-old _slop_ you feed us here. Why am I even here to begin with?" she continues, but Lily's already left to report Clara's absence from meals for the eleventh time so far this week.

She slumps her back into the wall, and hugs her knees into her chest to keep the warmth in. Clara begins to remember doing this in the Pond household after telling them the Doctor had killed himself. _Silly Ponds_, she thinks coldly. _Just because he's not back for __**you**__, doesn't mean he's not back at all. He just got the time wrong again, sillies. My Doctor's coming back for me, very, very soon. All I have to do is send out a distress call. Which... I cannot do without the TARDIS._

This stumps her, and she frowns, the confusion spurring her forward to a decision. _I'll do something then. Anything. I'll get out of here, and I'll get his attention. That's what I'll do. I'll signal him over. A smoke signal! Yes Clara, that's awfully clever of you. Set this God-forsaken 'mental hospital' on __**fire**__. No turning back, Clara. Brave heart._

She strikes the chunk of wood she'd torn from the old banister on the second floor of the critical attention ward, and cups the flame attentively, as if there were wind for her to shelter it against. Clara considers pressing it against her skin, to feel something, but uses it on the curtain instead. She watches in wonder as the veil-like fabric is devoured by tongues and teeth of flames like an animal that hasn't fed in weeks. She herself hasn't eaten in a long time. The Impossible Girl thinks that it is so wonderful, so beautiful. She loves it.

She loves it so much that she doesn't care when the flames start to nip and taste the hem of her hospital gown.

She admires it so much that she laughs when it starts to eat away greedily at the fragile, human skin on her legs, her hips, her torso.

She doesn't mind, because it will bring her closer to her Doctor.


	11. From Amy-Rose

**_A/N: First of I don't know how many special chapters, as requested. This is the aftermath of the Doctor and Clara's untimely suicides. Little language warning, Amy-Rose closely resembles her first namesake Amelia in that regard. :)_**

Amy-Rose's Thoughts

_It's been a year since they called me from the... the mental ward, telling me that Mum had gone and burned her cell, and taken herself with it. How is it that history would repeat itself like that? Grandma died, then Grandpa, then Dad, and then... Mum. Of all people, and of all ways, I wouldn't have dreamed she would do that to herself, to us, to anyone. How could she give it up like that? Life? She was so loved. Dad was so loved, by us, by Mum. I still don't know why they did it. But I hope they're at peace now. So Mum, if you're up there, among the clouds; I love you, and I wish that Dad and you were here. We miss you so. What's it like up there? Terribly cold, I would imagine._

_Good Lord, I'm basically talking to myself. But I miss them, so I think temporary insanity is justified. Dear Mum, Daddy's Soufflé Girl, do you know what the clouds look like now? Because they aren't lined with silver anymore. They're dark and tortured and vulnerable, just like your kids now. _

_Rory and Jack are living with me now, with their respective partners (in crime, as Dad would say). I hope your precious souls are still roaming the galaxies, stealing alien vehicles and saving princesses with lovely singing voices like you did on Akhaten. _

_We miss you so much, Doctor. Daddy. I don't know what to call you now. Why did you leave Mum like that? It __**destroyed**__ her! Even after all this time... Always, you said. But you left. What did we do, Doctor? Hm? Because I've seen three therapists now, and I hope you can still love a chronically depressed daughter, a schizophreniformic son and a youngest child who can't leave the house without crying. After a __**year**__. I hope you know __**exactly**__ what you did to us. And I hope it __**hurts**__. Say hi to Mum for me. Because she's only with you because of you. _

_So I suggest that when I meet you again, that you run, and you better fucking remember._


	12. From Jack, via Emma

**_A/N: Here we are, listening in on the message that Jack's sending to Clara and the Doctor up above via a medium. He pulls out at the end, because his thoughts disintegrate. This chapter may be a little disturbing. Late, I know, haha, this whole story is bonkers, and so am I. Just a reminder from the last chapter that Jack has a case of trauma-induced schizophrenia, meaning he's relatively okay until things happen in his head. Please note that it will get confusing, Jack doesn't really know who he's talking to at some points due to confusion and being overwhelmed. Special thanks to I am Clara Oswald, ooffle, ThetaTwelve and Sienna-Bienna for your reviews!  
_**

* * *

Jack's Thoughts

_Uh... Hey Mum, Doctor - Dad, whatever. I love you lots and I miss you. So I found an old lady, she's a medium. Her name's Emma Grayling, she said she knows you guys. She also said that it's thanks to Dad that she's a medium now, apparently before she was just an empathetic telepath or some mouthful like that._

_Enough about her, anyway. I'm under the custody of a live-in psychologist, her name's Clara, and she looks just like Mum. Probably is her, and that drives me nuts. I think she remembers being you, but I'm not sure whether she really does or is just playing along so I don't cry. Mum, are you proud of me? I'm sorting myself out and everything. I can't even remember the bad things I did yesterday. I think it's the new medicine Clara's got for me. She's pretty, like Mum. _

_I don't know, I started forgetting things like that a year ago when you two... yeah. I felt fine, but at the same time, I just... I don't know, I just feel happy and sad and angry and scared all at the same time, but not at all and it's just really confusing Clara looks so much like Mum and that's because it probably is her Mum help me Dad help me Clara looks so much like Mum and that's because it probably is her I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO AND I'M SO SORRY Clara looks so much like Mum and that's because it probably is her I said I was going to look after Amy-Rose and Rory and I don't know what happened I'm so sorry-_

* * *

Emma Grayling

_Clara looks so much like you, and that's because it probably... probably... Jack, are you okay?_


	13. The Same Day (Rory and Claudia Smith)

**_A/N: A moment between Rory Smith (the Doctor and Clara's youngest son) and his wife Claudia Auditore ;) Yes, Ezio's sister (Assassin's Creed, how could I not?) Also Jack's wife Lily is featured briefly, yes, the nurse that looked after Clara. Mini-canon intended. This is the last chapter about the kids._**

* * *

Rory's POV

"Love, could you get me a cuppa? I'm not feeling too well."

"You're never feeling well."

Claudia doesn't lie. What part of me should be okay with any of it? And why should she suffer for my sufferings?

A wife is a soul to care and to keep, but recently she has been doing the keeping, while I have been able to do very little caring.

"Why should I?"

I didn't mean to snap. I never do. The ghost of a frown nestles between her full Italian brows, and she sighs, handing me the steaming TARDIS mug. I look up in horror, and she realises, snatching the deep blue porcelain box from my shaking hands and switches it for an ordinary white one. Jack's wife Lily watches the exchange from the other side of the table, and her bright green eyes express concern. I flick my eyes ever so slightly to the door, and look back at her; she takes the hint, and leaves for Claudia to take her place.

"I've arranged for you to see a therapist. In the hospital. We both know why, so I don't suggest argument."

I didn't intend on arguing.

"What day, what time?"

"Wednesday at eleven o'clock. I don't think you're coming back either."

I choke on my tea.

"_Why_?"

More of a demand than a question.

"Because you're a danger to yourself and the baby."

Tears sting my eyes as they find the familiar bump in her maternity dress. She leaves in a bit of a huff, and I rest my head on the table, spotting the calendar across the room.

They're going to take me on the same day Mum died.


	14. Where To Then, Tea Girl? (She Laughed)

**_A/N: This will be the last special chapter. Written when having tea feels from writing I Am Her Cup Of Tea for A Thousand Candles, They Burn at Both Ends. We check in on the Smith children in the present (seven months after the events of the last chapter). Jack and Lily are married safely, Amy-Rose is faring _****_much_****_ better, while Rory and Claudia are going on a whole new adventure entirely. :) Some serious nostalgia and warm, fuzzy feels in store. Enjoy. _**

**_* Special thanks to _****_all the reviewers and followers_****_ for sticking on this horribly twisted rollercoaster and working through the more confusing parts with me. ALL IS EXPLAINED! :D *_**

* * *

GSP

"I'm guessin' you spoke to 'em? That one day you ran off to see Emma?" Lily asks of her husband Jack, voice trembling ever so slightly as she leans an elbow on the dinner table, tea mug in hand. "Like... from _beyond the grave_." She punctuates with almost sarcastic air quotation marks. Jack nods. "It didn't go too well, hun. I... did the thing again. Where I can't breathe or focus, and it got really scary."

"Yeah? What did Emma think of that?"

"She didn't know. It's not like she mediums for people every day, it's not her profession. Although she didn't pick up on my –_ change in emotions_ – which is rather unusual for an empathetic telepath with a reputation like hers."

"Let's give her the benefit of the doubt, she probably didn't think to venture into the darkest corners of your mind, so to speak."

Lily watches him with sad hazel eyes. He promptly asks, "Do you love me, Lily? Or did you come away with me out of pity?" Her eyes widen, and a frown sets in her young and uncreased forehead. "Of course I love you. Who else would I sit through emotional _'ell_ for?" she says emphatically, nudging her husband with a smirk on " _'ell"_. Jack manages to smile at her.

"Do you think she's Mum, though? The therapist? Like, another echo?" he asks his wife quietly. She nods. "Probably. She makes properly monstrous soufflés every Sunday, I'll be damned if she ain't," Lily replies, "won't let me 'elp her out either." They both chuckle softly. Jack frowns.

"What is it, dear?"

"Just... I thought Mum was only scattered throughout Dad's timeline. Doesn't really make much sense. I mean, they're _both_ dead now. For nearly two years, they've been gone. Well, Dad is, Mum's always gonna be saving people. What a lady."

Lily takes note of the new ability to state his parents' death confidently, and tells him, "Well, it's quite possible that she scattered herself throughout your timelines too. Or time did. Time? Is it a _thing_? Anyway, I reckon she's still with ya, all of ya, watchin' and protectin' and all that savin' business."

"You think so?"

"It'd make sense."

Jack beams at her.

* * *

Amy-Rose wakes up crying again. Nightmares. Her husband Michael wakes promptly at the noise, and holds her, whispering that she's okay, she's safe now.

"It was just a dream, Aro."

"_They're still dead_."

"I know, darling. Of course they are, but I'm here. You're safe with me."

"What do you mean _of course they are_?"

"Well, they are... dead... I mean-"

She pushes him away with a shriek, leaps out of bed, and runs to the kitchen, where Jack and Lily sit in content silence. No one attempts to break it, as Amy-Rose sheds silent tears that hit the surface of the counter. She mentally shakes herself for still being so sensitive and emotional.

She knows her husband will come for her anyway, and when she feels his hand on her shoulder, she starts to apologise profusely. "It's okay," Michael says, smiling into her hair, and her breathing stabilises. "Yeah," she agrees with a sigh, "it really is."

* * *

Rory sits with Claudia in the TARDIS. Out of all three kids, the Doctor had left the TARDIS to him specifically. Probably because he is the most prone to travel. The TARDIS has not been out of the time vortex since it picked up Rory from Rome. "Are you sure you want to do this? Even after we lost... her?" Rory asks, referring to the daughter they'd lost a little more than half a year ago to miscarriage. Claudia grins tearily at him.

"Yeah, I am. We need to get out of here, before we waste our lives away regretting. I don't want to forget to live, before I die."

Rory admires her words for a moment, taking a mental note to write it down somewhere.

"Where to then, Tea Girl?"

She laughs at the pet name, so similar to her mother-in-law's.

"Take me... take me somewhere _awesome_."

He can only grin back, and rushes back inside the house where his siblings and siblings-in-law are moping in silence. "Now guys, look after yourselves, Claudia and I are popping out somewhere for a while. I don't know when we'll get back, have fun and be safe," he tells them, kissing his sister on the forehead and patting Jack on the shoulder. "Goodbye, everyone," Claudia says to them all, not a single hint of regret or longing in her eyes. They jump into the TARDIS, hand-in-hand. Rory punches in the 'random' code while Claudia shuts the door and increases the gravity level. He smiles at his wife.

"In the words of my father ," Rory tells her, grunting as he cracks his neck to the left abruptly, "_Geronimo_."

They both could've sworn they heard the TARDIS laugh.


End file.
